


Perfectly Not Perfect

by Butterfly53



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly53/pseuds/Butterfly53
Summary: This was going to be the direction of another work, which it didn't fit, so reworked to become a one shot dare to write something without dialogue, descriptive characters versus names.   Discussions of abortion,  choices....    No big hue revelation, just a little story of a night that turned Henry into a dad.
Relationships: Henry Cavill/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Perfectly Not Perfect

It was only one night, drunken cast parties, crew and cast supposedly on the same level, still gathering in their own groups. She having spent so much time less then 5 feet away from him, still didn’t know her name, just one of the lighting crew running around with her little meter. Out of habit, always wearing black torn up jeans, a pair of Doc Martens older then the youngest of the cast, every pocket hiding something, tapes, phone, pens, markers, probably adding more than enough to weight. But tonight, she wore girl clothes, almost forgetting how, the lacey bar and the pretty panties, a little black dress perfectly draped to show her figure. Cut, shapely, toned, not hiding the bruises that go with the job, every tech had a collection that never seemed to go away. She brushed out her hair, letting it down for once, pulling only a bit to the side, held by a clip that wasn’t also an office supply. She painted her nails to cover the broken and jagged edges, just a little bit of gloss to feel like the women she was and not just one of the guys. And even in this, she felt natural, sexy, driven to be that other side of herself buried in dust and dirt.  
After having to reintroduce herself more than a few times to crew she just spent the last 6 months working with, maybe being the women Carey, and not the tech Carey was to much for everyone else. Until Henry asked if she wanted a glass of wine, asking her if she was from the production company or a friend of someone else. She, explaining what she did, almost annoyed by now at the confusion, rethinking her motivation in life, for only wearing a LBD.  
Henry, feeling a tad ashamed at not looking further to those who supported him, a tad centered at the idea of filming, forgetting briefly everyone behind the camera to make it all work. She was beautiful, unseen before, maybe hidden by a hat, or headset, the blur of the days tasks, she was no longer invisible to him, and from this point will never be.

A few sips with pleasant conversation, turned to knocking back shots, both pretty sure they could hold their own. Being too pretty for the crew side of party-ers, or so she thought, laughing a tad to hard with the actors, loosing herself to stories they only seemed funny and blown out of proportion, or who could drop Geralt’s favorite word, in the most gravelliest voice, or how many places that could be used for the only answer to any question. Suddenly it was 4am, many had already retreated, Henry and Carey figured they could take the same car to town, both in no condition to drive. They were nearly the last to leave.  
Things got fuzzy, he took up so much of the space in the small fiat, she leaned against him the entire ride, nearly an hour, but he also leaned back against her, enjoying the smell of her hair, how his arm fit around her tiny waist and that wonderfully sexy little black dress. She had unzipped it for him, because his large hands couldn’t find the zipper so well hidden, as he kissed the back of her neck, she loosening his belt, sliding her hands under his shirt, finding him a tad ticklish around his belly button. God he was cute when he laughed. He was great at leading, but she was also good to making him beg for more. His sweat tasted so good to her, as she slid her tongue all the way up his chest. He wanted to finish in her mouth, but she wanted him harder for herself, fitting so well together, he was everything she read about, she knew full well how to ride him for herself, wrapping her leg around him, giving herself time to adjust. His strength took over, and in one turn she was under him, his arm still around her shoulder, pushing deep, in rhythm, sweat dripping off her forehead, blood coursing through veins. She instinctively slapped his ass, he pounding harder until bone hit bone, he was so close, as was she, feeling as hot as ever, her body thumping enough to split in half. He came, letting out a hollowed grunt, feeling everything spill deep into her, she hit peek nearly at the same time, leg shaking so hard she wrapped the other around his waist, perfectly circling him closer to her. His weight pressed her harder into the mattress, but she didn’t want to move. She actually couldn’t move, let alone try walking. His breathing started to become more even, pushing up from over her, her legs finally letting go. Her sweat started to cool, skin prickling with a chill. He pulled the blankets over, spooning her, his arms wrapped around her, she fitting perfectly here as well, falling into a deep slumber, warm in his bed.  
Morning came, he still asleep, still holding her. Looking at the clock, she knew she had to run, close her room out and start the long journey flying back home. She savored this moment for a little bit, the expensive soft sheet, feeling complete in his embrace, his cologne filling her nose. She could land here for while and be surrounded in bliss. But she broke some unwritten rules, sleeping with the talent is a big faux pas, and that she did, amazingly so. She only having her famous dress to waltz toward her hotel to, not as nice, but well kept, sufficient for throwing herself on the bed after a grueling day, a clean shower and towels was enough to ask, for months on end. She knew the back door, that would work with a key, usually grabbing a cigarette before heading in for the night. That was her only door to save face. Looking back at his sweet face once more before closing the door, to a quiet hallway, a quick dart across the cobbled street, seeing no one, running hung over up the back stairs, fumbling with keys until safe within hers, only hearing her name from her best friend, whistling at her passing her door as she was breaking for the airport. She would understand, hell, she would probably judge the sex for them, giving them pointers on dismount. But no rumors would come of this, and that was all she was grateful for, and the new bruises no one else would see, the night she would remember longer than then anything. Her own hotel door snapped shut, as she entered, hitting her ass on the way in, heading straight for a shower, to ready for her flight.  
*************************

At first nothing seemed off at all, just a little tired. Grabbing a few day gigs in Manhattan, never hard getting day work, getting long term, that’s an entirely different story. She blamed it on the time shift, getting back on the east coast. She missed her little gaff and grip family, working with that lighting director was amazing, and maybe a little depressing now broken up. Working with colors, creating lightness and air, not relaying on CGI to pull off a look, she learned so much with every cracked knuckle, stubbed toe, and now huge sets were nothing. Lining up more work came easier for the summer, maybe even getting a little color working outside. Finally getting use the room she kept paying for, sharing an apartment with her friends from college, getting the dust off the shelfs of books sitting since January.  
Summer heat was on, working in one of the hottest summers on record, hitting the beach on rare days off, always thirsty, but god how her boobs ached, a little to long for the regular monthly stuff. Her ribs started to show, eating wasn’t high on her list, just enough for energy to haul the biggest wraps of cables, but her legs looked good, muscles doing things she never expected. Sleeping, that became a priority, maybe a bug just not going away. It wasn’t until she threw up everything after a dinner at her moms, maybe there was something bigger to worry about. But that would have to wait until later, she started a week long shoot in an old unused subway tunnel, assistant lighting director, nothing to give up for a little stomach bug. She would just be careful.  
Heat compresses under roads, the length of day is almost unmeasured, union took precautions, water stations everywhere, extra breaks, and fans just off set. But her role made her work through a few breaks, getting notes and lists ready, setting up changes, making sure everyone else is cared for. She brought clothes to change, sometimes twice, sweat building up, soaking through, and feeling uncomfortable. Sitting was needed a bit more, but she accurately had her own chair, something considered an accomplishment. A little faulter in her step, a bit of lost balance, prickling running up her fingers, the feeling of floating. If she was going to pass out, now wouldn’t be such a bad time, they just called for a reset, so she could sit this out briefly and let it pass, her steward would have the crew anyway. Blackness started flooding her eyes, creeping in, time becoming sludgy, voice fading out, she didn’t feel hot anymore, actually she didn’t feel anything.

The first thing could tell, she was back above ground, the sun was bright again, piercing through her eye lids, or maybe it was the flash light of an EMT, but either way it hurt. The air was too fresh to be underground still, and the hmm of cars passing by also confirmed this. She couldn’t move, strapped to something hard, a chill up both her arms, more things being taped on. Someone pinching her hands. Her boots were off, something so strange about that feeling of someone taking off she boots, a bit of a prized possession, now not know where they are sent her into a panic. Wanting to get up became the goal, but these straps were holding her down. More hands pushing her down, someone trying to calm her, something about severe dehydration, taking it easy for a little bit, she would be fine, going to the hospital, not to worry, she actually wasn’t the only one. None of this did, but energy was failing, and things became sludgy again, until one question came out of the EMT mouth asking her if she could possibly be pregnant. Math, calendar math, thinking when was the last time, but she had it recently, didn’t she, or at least she thought she did, something a tad not so normal, but there couldn’t be a reason at all. She’s not stupid, she was always prepared for such things. She didn’t say anything, just laid there for a bit, the EMT must be taking it at losing consciousness again. Her eyes closed, trying to remember if the last time they talked about condoms, or any protection for that matter. That night with Henry, so passionate, hitting every spot she could ever ask for in a lover, could anyone ever fit the bill after a night like that, she could only hope for, or be left to find someone that doesn’t exist. They were both after each other like uncaged animals, throwing caution into the wind, she wanted him so badly, she didn’t know what came over her, both fuzzy enough to forget a step, not thinking about consequence. How long had it been, over two months home, nearly three, she should have figured something by now, but she couldn’t be, and if she was, what would that mean……

A kind nurse, helping her back off the table, asking her that same question, dates and calendars, and Carey asking about privacy, what would they write down, who would find out, productions don’t like having to make alterations for such things. No one would find out, records don’t get shared like that, and she could see an OB today at the clinic for further confirmation, wellness and such things. She had time for choices, but not long, 10 weeks already, nearing 11. Thinking about what she had done in that time, nothing really of concern, didn’t really drink anything, nothing beyond a Tylenol for body aches, not really eating either. Todays mishap was about the worst thing she didn’t to her body, the nurse confirming all will be ok then, and to talk further to the clinic. The ER thought she was well enough to be sent out, slipping past the door unseen, with her returned boots, clothes still dirty from the underground. The address wasn’t hard to find, pretty frosted glass walls for a lobby, women in all stages of pregnancy. She was a walk in, looking more like a teenager in a goth phase, but this was crew life and she was used to the looks shot around the room. The office staff was much nicer, without any judgement. Her assigned doctor was exacting, internal ultrasound and all, a picture of the little bean if I wanted, and options. She never thought she would be here, thinking about all of this, always thinking she was smarter than to have to make these choices. She had to think about it, she wasn’t ready for a family, she was barely taking care of herself, she had movies to chase, crews to learn to lead, these were her working years, her back breaking years, not family starting years. Was she stupid, how would she tell him, hell…how would she even get a hold of him? Would he want anything to do with her, his kid, would it be fair not to tell him? Maybe today was still wrecking her body, suddenly a cup of orange juice was trust in her hand, another nurse, taking vitals, someone swinging her feet around to lessen the pressure. A counselor joined her, purely talking, about anything, her job, her future in film, the pressure of choices, still staying healthy, offering her phone number to call anytime.  
It was dark when she finally got out of there, they called the shoot to fan out the tunnel, the internal temperature was over 110, the actors were getting sick, but it took 5 crew in the hospital before calling it. It was going to rain which would help a lot for the next day, which was the last. That day went like a blur, they got the shots fast, she got another contact from the head electrician, she liked working with him, he liked her work ethic, lined up another for the same production house, at a studio this time in Brooklyn. She didn’t confirm it, she would call him tomorrow before 8am. She gave herself time to think about, but only until then, any more she would be going crazy.

There was only one person Carey wanted to talk to, her best friend from the winter shoot, working in Atlanta. The only person that might put two and two together, that saw her the morning after. She was in shock more than Carey, considering the situation. She really did want to know how good the sex was, rumors fly and curiosities get the better of any women or man for that would care about such things. They laid out all the plans, everything. Then talked about if she didn’t, what about due dates, adoptions, telling him, maybe how to get a hold of him. Then she asked what eyes would this little baby have, Henry’s impossible blue, which Carey had seen in person and thinks most of those photo are photoshopped, or Careys golden hazel? That question right there slid her over the edge, crying deeply into her phone, those kind she had to have every once and a while, deep core shaking cries. She studied biology enough, she knew she would never forgive herself, maybe earlier but not now. Maybe for her, she had to take pause, it wasn’t about her anymore, she had to think what was best for both of them. Her future now laid out to include a surprise, for which she didn’t hope for anything just yet, simply saying the word baby was enough for now. Carey asked her to hunt around for contacts, friends of friends that worked with PA’s, maybe would have numbers, stuff like this happens more often, usually not babies, but gifts you might need a cream or antibiotic to clear up, shoes left under the bed was code for such things. Henry was usually absent of such things, taking a higher road, but he tangled in this as well and should know what he left behind. Three hours later, Carey felt a tad bit more hopeful, she wasn’t alone, for now.  
She took the gig at the studio, temp work again, for two weeks. Cash was cash, and she was going to have to bank as much as possible. She applied in offices of rental houses, production churning desk jobs that she knew she would have to face at some point. Hauling cables and fixture nearly her weight wouldn’t be even possible soon, she had to push to land something just to keep the money flowing. 

Carey ate what she could, took more mid production jobs as the summer wore on. She wasn’t gaining as she should, appts were every two weeks as she didn’t hit weight mile stones, things became risky. Still baby was fine, just enough to hide a bump. Her clothes still hid her at 5 months, sweatshirts now did it for her as the air changed to fall. Her watch started to slide to her thumb, she added shakes when that was noticeable. She told her room mates, none of them cared actually, didn’t ask who the father was, and who would believe her if she did. She had seen another family live in a rented room, full bed over crib, all the baby accessories in book shelves. She figured she would nurse, because it was free, and anyway she wouldn’t have to think about anything bigger until the baby learn how to walk. Thinking up instead of out fixed her housing issue. 

A month off with no work, did little to help her worry, but great for her body, always asking for a rest. Sleeping became the order of the day. She applied still, hoping for something in a office, but who would hire her as her bump was something little a white elephant in the room. Near the holidays, came retail work, cash flow which she couldn’t turn down. Being her feet all day, not in her favorite boots, she really started to feel pregnant, something she rarely thought about, not the couples walking hand in hand in baby shops picking furniture, hunting over the perfect name in books, picking color for a nursery, shopping for clothes, having showers with family. Carey’s family didn’t even know, living far enough away, claiming work as pulling her away to been seen in person, video chatting only from the shoulder up. Telling her mom would take a week worth of practice, needing to find the right words, showing her a plan, trying to remind her stuff like this happens all the time, and no she wasn’t someone’s whore. She knew her mom would end up in church on her knees, some priest would hear her confessions, trying to make her Mary Magdalen that needed saving, hints about marrying the father….if she only knew. They missed Easter already, why not Christmas, her only request would be to hit mass. Her father, well, if ever they would meet, he would probably slug the crap out of Henry, “making Carey this way”, shot gun in hand. He would be a man of few words, but anything he would say would go straight to the heart, a simple shrug of disappointment, she no longer being his little girl. She never really was anyway, bonding more over baseball then twirling with dresses, fixing his favorite car with him, grease buried in her nails. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. How fast one night sent Carey to fearing letting them down, for everything. But having the baby was what they would want anyway, there would have been no other option to them.

Walking home past a street side set up, permits and cones on display, generators humming deep in her ears, knowing this wouldn’t be the first time walking past her dream, seeing a few faces she could recall, letting that tear go down her cold cheek. She almost, out of habit, slid under the tape to check the trailer for the days cut list, seeing who was lead tech. She wouldn’t have credentials, but no one ever checks those late in the afternoon. The sun perfectly aligning for a sunset shot, the colors casting over sky, brilliant purples and reds, it would have been great to work that shot, finding the balance with the photographer, keeping it rich. As if almost a cruel reminder, the baby moved against her ribs, a tad more painful as it got stronger.  
Her last appointment, the technicians almost let it slip, the gender. Carey didn’t want to know, she would meet this baby soon enough, and get to know it when it was time. She went old fashioned, like her mom did. Names would wait, picking out necessities at consignment shops would be minimal. It would just happen as nature intended, like it used to be. She wasn’t getting excited, she wasn’t nesting or anything else the baby books said. Maybe she was missing out on something, what she was doing was making lists, her way of prepping, her way of managing, planning for the if’s, the possible C-Section, home life after. She had a grip on it, to keep in control of her life, she thought she had everything in check, until walking through Time Square, and seeing him, all 40 feet of him on a billboard. She lost it, all control over her very complicated life, she cried until she could barely breathe, she remembered that shot up close, his hands on the sword, he almost hitting her off camera in a stunt. That jaw line and body that were so easy to carve with light. She thought she shut those memories out, pushing them down like relics only remembered in a scrap book. Even harder to bear was he was in the city, probably not that far from where she was now, unbeknownst to him. She had to run, she had to get away, she couldn’t see him, not like that.

Carey’s phone dialed the only one who could pull her out, through all the choked breathes, through all the jumbled words, she figured out what sent Carey over the edge. She too, was off for a stretch, booked a flight to treat herself to some city shopping, and to help her dearest friend. Avoiding billboards in the city was not going to be easy, Carey constant reminder hiding under her clothes, she didn’t need to think about what could be, what life this child could have if thing were different, if maybe she tried harder to tell him. Finding Carey still in bed, still crying two days after their conversation was a tad scary. Carey’s face gaunt, though her color was deceiving, she wondered if she was truly well, despite her sadness. Ordering take out, stuffing their faces over old black and white films seemed to be in order. Carey almost smiled, watching her eat was comforting, she knew Carey enough to not be stupid about something like that, it was this kid sucking the life out of her on so many levels, she had to try harder to make contact. Henry needed to know what she was doing for this baby, it wasn’t fair to navigate it alone. They talked plans, even the short term, Carey seemed to have it figured out as far as she could. In the back of her mind, Carey seemed to be another statistic, the reason people give up on the industry, those who keep dreaming stay for the long haul, those who get out never do because they truly want to. Careers are short, unforgiving and selfish, Carey’s situation no longer fitting in to try to make it work. And the sad part about being a women in the industry, men never balance these decisions the same way, they get to work regardless, it’s the women that are burdened with making the choice of OR, work OR family.

Three days of squatting in Carey’s tiny bed room, walking in parks, window shopping, enjoying the city, a call came to her phone, from a LA number. Rarely did she get those, so answering it was almost electric. Connections and favors could have at least gotten her this far, she needed to see this through for Carey. Without hinting at it, she said something in Hungary got left behind, Henry would want to know about an interaction he had with production staff, someone who became a friend. It was of the most urgent nature. Just loose enough to be anything, trading numbers to share to with him, and making sure he understood not to just relay a message. She dropped all her credentials, making connection more than they were, hoping that an insider would never set up anything without the need. It only took two more days, as they were saying good buys on the way to the airport, the subway platform was noisy enough to almost miss it. Carey answered not knowing the source, but her eyes said everything she needed to know. They found a bench in a tad quieter location, hearing only one side of the conversation. She watch Carey start to cry, she heard her let everything out, how she kept it secret, how shes not looking for an entrapment, how he will have a kid running around New York, how she doesn’t need anything from him. She didn’t know if he was talking, Carey wasn’t saying anything, grabbing her hand for support, the phone still on her ear, tissues being used up by tears. A few more moments of silence, and Carey ended it, telling him to keep her phone number, if he ever wanted to see his child, he could use it to call her, if he wanted anything like paternity, she would agree whole heartedly. Thanking him for taking her call, it hit her hard, that’s not how she expected to end, not that she really knew, disappointed in how that played out. Carey centered herself, more of resolve, at least he knew, at least she told him. She could move on now, she knew to not dream of it anything other way but now. One last hug was shared, Carey promised she would be ok, also she would call when she would land. Another favorite movie was on that night, and they could watch together on the phone, and not worry for just a little while. 

Four days of working, retail music actually hampering any sense of the holiday. She could tell her parents, she could prepare to see them, she knew where she stood in Henry’s life. The day after the phone call, she saw him in an interview, looking like that conversation never even took place, talking about his next venture in a Sherlock Holmes film, like they didn’t exist. At least she knew, or think she did, he didn’t say to much to her, if anything at all. The subway hole was quiet, a violinist playing concert solos filled the void, the hard seat made Careys back hurt, but standing made it worse. She had to work the next day, so straight home, and into her favorite sweats, covered in blankets to hopefully get a good nights rest to prep for another day on her feet. Her savings was a bit more padded, she would have a bit of time to find something else after the holidays were over, she already started stocking diapers, her only allowance of planning. She felt her strength returning, the kind that let her persevere, that kind she will pull from when she would be truly alone.  
Nearly asleep in the only position she could get comfortable, her room mate woke her up, saying something about someone coming to see her. She was in her worst, her body shifting in gravity, trying to get off the bed, her table lamp still not lighting the room enough. She felt the baby shift, her bump now burgeoning, her skin graciously beautiful without much of a stretch mark, the only thing she if anything was considered lucky. She shot a quick look in the mirror, just to make sure she looked human at least, when a light tapping of knuckles hit the door, she still wasn’t ready for anyone, still not pulling her shirt down all the way. His shadow announced him prior to seeing his reflection, her heart lurched at seeing his profile, barging in, looking only at her stomach. He froze, he hand still on the knob, trying to close it for privacy, although no one seemed to be in the common areas. His open jacket wet in spots from the snow, wearing clothes beyond anything of value in the entire apartment, a bit of snow melt glistening in his hair, he was just as beautiful as she left him, sleeping on the bed that made this baby she was carrying. She couldn’t read his face, stoic maybe, in aww, guilty, possibly a tad. She didn’t pull her shirt down, a bit in defiance of trying to cover it up, she wasn’t going to make him more comfortable.

She told him to sit on the bed, before he fell down, at least breathe a bit, she was in no condition to help him if he did, laughing a tad at that statement. Amazingly enough, she had the upper hand here, knowing months ago, being able to process it, knowing what became of what they did. He still staring at her, actually the baby more, moving his hand maybe to touch her, feel what’s been growing inside, making it real, but hesitated. They didn’t go through any formalities, he going straight to the obvious, asking how she knew it was his. She hadn’t been with anyone else, at all, she wasn’t like that, that night was not what she was expecting, especially what came out of it, she said she could blame the alcohol, but that’s the easy way out. They were consenting adults that made a mistake.  
He began to say it could never be a mistake, he remembered how beautiful she was to him that night, he wondered where she went the next morning, he remembered the smell of her shampoo. He just let it be, chalking it up to stress and tension, but wondering what happened to her. The phone call was a shock, he thought he was better than to let this happen, his plan of marrying then kids, his picture perfect idea of what that part of his life would be, that bubble bursting with one single phone call. He’s happy he knows, he just needed to digest it all. She actually wasn’t happy with that statement, she had her dreams crushed as well. He said she could always jump back into it, after, like he knew how hard it was to just get in the door in the first place. She held back from biting off his tongue for that, she should be lucky he’s standing in her room, coming to terms with everything, but she should also expect more. 

He changed the topic to her health, she did look thin considering. She took her vitamins, she ate what she could, threw up most of everything when her body forced her too, did enough to stay off a pik-line. He looked bewildered at that, offering to take care of her, not allowing her to work, “think of the baby” was his line, like it was easy for him to say that. For the last 5 months that all she could think about, how alone she felt, how inadequate she felt for so long, being a mother, she never thought about it, she never had it in her cards, and here she was not anywhere near 30, getting ready to be one. His curiosity finally got the best of him, placing his warm hand on her stomach, to her it filled her soul, the baby moving against it, him smiling at the nudge. This would be enough, if this became the moment he accepted her as the mother to his child, and anger lifted inside of her, something she didn’t know she held on to, until it was off of her, not knowing how long it was tinging everything, sucking the color of of her life.  
Simple conversation as though nothing was hanging over them spanned hours unexpectedly. He asked what her parents thought of him, she explained she hadn’t told him yet. Raising an eyebrow to that, he hoped they wouldn’t hate him, she stating more of the same. He thought to how he would break it to his mom, but grandkids made her happy. He skirted the idea of finding a better place, planning for his child, take on responsibility. She had been working so hard just to keep it together, couldn’t think beyond tomorrow, that decision tabled for a bit. Without notice, they never left the room, she had somehow shifted into his arms again, sleeping soundly. He being awake with new found energy spent the night circling his hand on her stomach, wondering if it was a girl or a boy, what color hair it would have, would it take after him. That night was a secret beautiful moment, before anyone else knew, but anyone in his circle knew what he was about to become. He turned his phone off, wanting to enjoy the quite, the snow hitting the old window frame, the wind swirling outside, sound of slumber with this beautiful women next to him, carrying his baby. It may not have been perfect, and the future being complicated, he would steal this for himself, even if ever so brief. 

He stayed in the city longer than planned, saying little to others about, hinting at maybe preparing for the Christmas holiday. But Carey still was his secret, for now, until he could tell his parents first. She also had to do the same, taking that hour and half train ride, almost shaking to entire way.

Carey stayed at the door, like a guest, instead of bounding through the back just like in highschool, just like a few months ago. Her mother answered the door like taking a delivery, shocked to see Carey’s face, even more so at her figure. But it was quick, a hug so hard it almost broke her in half, suddenly being a grandmother was exciting, trying to fatter her up, making plans, taking about baptism. She cried deeply on the couch, telling her mom she was afraid to say anything, and retort a tad funny, saying she wasn’t getting any younger waiting to be a grandmommy. It would take a bit for her father to see it the same, but they both agreed she was an adult supporting herself, and they will love this baby anyway it came. Of course they hinted at the father being responsible, and who he was, was he good enough, Carey snickering to answer, saying he was British, came from a large family, and didn’t run from her from that end, he wanted to step up to be more than just help. Her mother made a comment that the British accent made her swoon, that Carey probably got that from her. Her father made plans to look at apartments closer, saying he’d help if she needed it, even hinting at moving back in, so her mother had something to do besides chase after him. She said she would think about, resting her head against his shoulder, letting out tears, not knowing exactly why, but at peace with her parents. She promised she call every day, to add them to her birth plan, and that they loved her to the end of the world. The train ride home, she digested everything that transpired, not knowing why she waited, why she felt like she had to lie for so long, toppling the idea her parents still wanted so much more out of her, but all they wanted was her to be happy, to be loved, to feel loved. 

Henry called the next morning, inquiring about her next doctors appointment, he was staying for a bit, and getting some affairs in order back at home. Carey wasn’t looking for company, he didn’t need to suddenly start telling her how to manage things, include him in everything. He retreated at that statement, asking purely for an ultrasound picture, and to make sure she was well, and if she needed anything to call him, at any time, he wouldn’t hesitate to be there for anything. Guilt built up inside, not knowing why she was so angry, why she almost resented him. She could just walkout and leave her current life, be taken care of, her and the baby, probably never worry for anything ever again. Maybe the idea of being kept was what terrified most, something to hide, talk about but never seen. Losing her freedoms as well, only caring for her child but not being able to be herself. She knew something of celebrity, even seen together would raise suspicion, when it does get out, she knows it will, he will have to face that all on his own, that was the part she didn’t sign up for in all this mess. Shutting him out wasn’t going to do anything good either, calling him back to see if he wanted to go with her, it wouldn’t be fair of Carey to cut him off in that fashion. They were going to need to start talking about things, what he saw the future to be like, how they would navigate everything in the future. Time really wasn’t to their advantage, they had less than two months.

His hat did little to hide his best features, his scruffiness showing a tad more grey than expected, her heart fluttered a bit catching a glimpse of him meeting her at the apartment door. He still exuded an air that made him worth watching, simply walking was enough to forget to breathe. Months watching him for the camera, she thought is was the role, the costume, the work, but now realizing that was something purely him she couldn’t put to words. His scent, something he wore put her at ease, losing the battle to stay mad at him, for what she wasn’t really sure. News was decent, still underweight for where she should be, baby measured well. Her pressure was a tad to low for her doctors liking, going now every week, suggesting to lay off working for while. Henry answered that for her, saying she doesn’t have to work, if it would be better, seeming to step on her toes. A hard glare, but the realization after seeing the little face on the monitor, so perfect, it may be best to just take the advice. Walking out with a script for high calorie shakes, another appointment the week after, and both getting copies of pictures, Henry looked in aww, captivated by something that was just a word and a shock a week ago, now real with eyes, long lashes, little finger he could see.  
A brief lunch, watching her a tad, not sure why he felt he had to, eating enough for a small army, things he hadn’t been able to think about, balanced protein to glycemic counts, now over salted, sugared to no end, but making her happy and isn’t that the cliché about pregnant women, missing the time to learn what she craved, making her a snack at 2 am, those little things he always seemed to expect to come with making a baby. Holding her hair back over a garbage can, feeling her body shake, watching tears fall from her face, trying everything to feel better, seeing straight on that this wasn’t her choice, grabbing a water to at least help with after. He wanted to help, he wanted to provide, he had is work cut out for him to get her to trust his intensions. His hotel was closer, offering to rest there, and maybe start the process of parenting. The boutique hotel, obviously noticing to not notice, small entry but of a caliber of class Carey hadn’t really ever seen. It was beautifully decorated, a tad masculine with clean lines, stone floors, a color pallet of grey. She wanted to throw herself deep into the bed, freshy made, so inviting to her tired feet. He slipped off her coat, telling her to do anything to be comfortable. He turned his phone off, not a distraction as going to interfere. 

Conversation was simple at first, her birth plans, what hospital. Then after, her plans for that tiny room in the shared apartment. He suggested maybe her parents wasn’t the worst idea, having help not knowing how she was going to be after. He explained they were going back to the London studio to film the next season at the end of January , he didn’t know who the photography director was going to be, but could see her joining them back there. They talked about dual citizenship, he was contacting a lawyer about making sure he knew the steps and was prepared, more or less, he had someone in his circle handle that. He didn’t hint at legal stuff, but he seemed to have a handle on what he might do if needed. She was to tired to think that far, name on a birth certificate was about as far as her family ever worried about. Carey joked her father would book the church if he would feel better. They talked about how they were raised, she catholic, he as well, both joking they seemed to be wedding and funeral attendees. Carey wanted to have a baptism, a promise to her mother. He would tell his parents over the holidays and possibly line up one of the godparents. 

Henry order dinner in, they talked about their childhoods, growing up, how they both got into film. She loved working with light, created spaces flooded in color, creating moods, the science behind it, getting dirty in the process. He enjoyed the study of people, finding the intricacies of a role, developing them to be part of his own being, capturing that and playing off other cast members. He loved what he was doing, she missed being in the middle of it. They reminisced about Hungary, she had her favorite tavern with her crew, he had his favorite coffee shop. 

The night turned less about the baby and more about them, something like a beginning of a relationship, very guarded but still trusting each other. Snow had fallen, he wasn’t going to let her walk home, practically asleep on his bed as it was. A calm fell over him, she giving into what he could do best, making sure she and their baby would be taken care of, maybe even thinking about fatherhood. He wasn’t getting any younger, thinking about keeping up with teenagers in his 50s, that idea brought a bit of bewilderment. He didn’t believe in signs, or divine interventions, this baby being handed to him wasn’t a turning point to settled down or follow through with a course he set out to find. He wouldn’t be absent, he would live on phone calls and video chats. He thought about the baby being a girl, would she be surrounded in pink and dolls, butterflies and ponies, or be a rough and tumble free spirit. Or a boy, would he take after Henry, quiet , strong or more like his a few of his brothers, fearless. Little did he expect, for now at least, wishing for a future he couldn’t see yet, possibly little dark curls, holding a tiny hand. His mind wandered watching her sleep, walking down a road, hand in hand, near the sea, she in a dress and sandals, 2 kids running ahead of them, a third on his shoulders he thinking nothing beyond how great that day would be. But for now, only an image in his head, a fantasy he may never get to live out, saved for what he may lose to celebrity; a quiet life, a beautiful marriage, children. A reflection, a mirror maybe of what little control he truly has over his life. He couldn’t let that mar this child, obligations made over family, worrying about what was next, tomorrow’s promises never being certain. He decided to lay next to her, and just be, drifting off to the rhythm of her breathing. 

Henry had to return to England, making sure she felt comfortable with his support. A few days rest did her good, taking a huge weight off her shoulders, seeing further into the future now without as much worry. The next month went by in the blur, visiting her parents took a days energy. Henry constantly called, sometimes in the early morning, forgetting about time. She learned his schedule closer to the shoot, noticing a familiar focus that could almost be mistaken for indifference. She understood his need to study and find his center before heading into 15 hours days again. His family knew, he said little to their reaction, she noticing a tad disappointment when that was discussed. He promised to be there for the birth as well; he only told one other, as to plan for a bit an absence nearing filming, it wasn’t negotiable. 

Carey allowed herself to do a little prepping, buying clothes, a take home outfit, a carrier, packing a bag for the hospital. A few calls came in about grabbing some work, having to pass on them was a tad gut-wrenching, saying only she was booked but to keep her in mind for spring shoots. Things started to pile in her tiny room, making it obvious no matter how she tried, it wasn’t going to work. She loved her room, the shared arrangement, barely affordable, but communal and supportive, but now severely outgrown. She began seeing how reliant she was becoming on Henry, feeling ashamed, not being able to do it on her own. Little did she have time to wallow, waking up to sheets full of crimson, a cool clammy sweat of her brow, a scream that woke her roommates.  
Nothing moved fast enough, tests, monitors, a nurse calling her parents, she worried about them driving in the city, her father was never forgiving with his words, or blood pressure spiking finding a parking spot. Previal bleeding, bed rest and at least a week in the hospital, looking ghostly. Her mother stayed, being told to go home nightly, knitting a blanket fully over a few days. Her mother was the one to call Henry, being their first interaction, and being about grave news, talking for about 10 minutes, assuring she was getting the best care. She talked him out of flying over, there was little he could do there, she was resting, and would feel horrible pulling him away. He confided he would have little focus and would barely be able to work. That baby was all he could think about, now told being in danger, but there was little he could about it. He was almost in tears, and she not knowing how to handle it, could only tell him she would call the minute Carey was up, so he could talk to him herself. It seemed to be enough, but he agreed that would be fair, no matter what time. He asked if he could put the phone near the babie’s heart monitor, he needed to hear it, and she did, fulfilling that for him. They said their good byes, promising one more time she wouldn’t wait for any news to get to him, getting to understand Henry, knowing why her daughter fell for him, she would probably have done the same, still only knowing him as Henry, and nothing else.

Days past, flowers started arriving from unknown places, unexpected with notes beautifully phrased. Roommates visited, calls from Atlanta raised her spirits. Bed rest made her retain fluid, her legs swelling, her lungs were getting wet. More machines surrounded her bed, more drugs made her sleepy. Her mother would time the calls when she spoke to Henry, usually over an hour, usually falling asleep to them. It was better he couldn’t come, looking at her was shocking. Fourteen days past, she was finally getting better, enough to sit up, enough to think about the next step. Her previa had subsided, her lungs were getting better, they were trying to make her healthier for labor or surgery, the potential to take the baby early was just as risky as trying full term. Three more weeks and nature could take over.

Home became where Carey grew up, waited on hand and foot, being followed to the bathroom. Things started showing up, her mothers sewing room became a nursery, Henry started having more conversations with her parents. Baby plans were maybe above Carey, not that she had the energy do it herself. Visits from home nurses subsided, sharps boxes and bandages disappeared, Carey starred to look like any other women close to giving birth, full of color, shapely, glowing, and a potty mouth to match. Her mother’s intuition told Henry to maybe be ready to fly over the next few days, he even said he noticed she was less agreeable, making her mother giggle at that. Her last appointment showed progress and signs she was getting ready, cleared to try natural, but guarded. Pretty rooms with family wouldn’t be allowed, just incase. Carey listed Henry as the only one allowed, to the surprise of her parents. They were watching their relationship bloom, over the phone, video chatting on her cell, maybe in spite of Careys sensibilities. Strongly independent, building the idea of where her life was going, her mother could see her future intertwined with Henry’s more than just weekend visits, split holidays and vacations. Maybe it was hope painting the rest of the picture, or maybe her heart, but Carey would never have to want for love if they ever took that leap together. 

Timing was as her mother expected, Carey started laboring at home, her father driving to the city like a champion race car driver, then insisted on picking up Henry at the airport. Little did he know how this works with celebrities, he didn’t even know he as one, but agreed they did, Carey sending a text to ignore most of what comes of her fathers mouth when driving. Having to labor in a more medically set up suite, right off an operating room, no pretty furniture, wall paper or home niceties. The sterility was sharp to her nose, but Henry’s cologne was enough to be considered relaxing. He studied his role, massaged her back, whispered all the sweet stuff she thought she would want to hear, but him being there was enough. Walking, sweating, screaming through pain, fifteen hours without intervention, the most beautiful boy was brought into the world. He cried little, just enough for the doctors to be satisfied, but joining the world already at peace. He was bigger than expected, strong, dark curly hair like his father, eyes bluish grey, with facets of gold. Carey needed a bit more help, what they prepared for, but a baby on her chest flew those worries away, and in not too long, it was just the three of them in a quiet room, meeting their son. 

It was almost overwhelming, how beautiful he was, how much Henry loved him at first glance, tears slipping from his eyes, not wanting to let him go. He called his mother, sent photos, caught himself staring at his son at long lengths, noticed how quickly visitors seemed to annoy him, the sudden urge to protect his family, something primeval. A name was decided, both happy in its creation, James Colin August Cavill, tad bit a mouthful, but fitting for such a strong boy. Nurses came to take the baby to do testing, Carey telling Henry he should follow, she would be moved to some other floor as it was, and a shower would be so fantastic. Her mom followed Carey, her father followed Henry, standing in hallways, looking aimless, helpless, having simple conversation, trying to understand baseball, spring training and drafts. Her father already hinting that he needs to be a Yankees fan, Mets would be ok, forgivable, Henry already having a tiny Rugby shirt ready at his London home. They agreed on watching a rugby match together, for a baseball game in turn. Nurses kept staring at Henry, her father a tad surprised, wondering what all the fuss was about. 

That week turned to fast for both Carey and Henry, he taking over a bit, arranging the trip to her parents home, making sure everything was settled until he had to return to filming. Watching them as new parents in the living room, saying good byes, glimpsing at how terribly painful this parting was for Henry, she stopped worrying about what usually happens, distant fathers always being busy, sending money if at all, but never getting to know their children, a Saturday afternoon as strangers later on in life. Her mother saw a dark shadow coming, knowing he had the means to be so much more, make so many more demands, if Carey decided to fight, because that’s what Carey does sometimes out of spite. Small suburban living might not be enough for Henry, to raise his child, out of the limelight. Carey being a mother was just as much of a surprise to her as it was to Carey. Convincing her to do what’s best for the boy, regardless of her plans, became a priority. She could tell Henry loved Carey, coming to it softly, and would be generous with love if she would just let him. Carey had to let go of that future she thought she wanted, not settle, not give up, but twists and turns change perspective, and Carey needed to come to terms with that. 

Two more months went by, exquisitely wrapped gifts sent to their door, phone calls at odd hours, her parent getting the idea Henry’s family came to terms with Carey, this odd start for this beautiful baby. And they did have the right to be cautious, someone unknown going after his money and fame, traps and high expectations, her upbringing shown more substance than fluff, never bringing it up. Plans were made to fly in the spring, first an uninterrupted weekend with Henry, then meeting his parents. Packing light, the spring coming, and Henry having already set up a nursery at his home, she wouldn’t need for anything while away.  
Carey worried her ripped jeans, easy tshirts and sometimes her mouth getting her in trouble wouldn’t be what they were expecting. Nothing proper or well mannered, despite her parents attempt, but Henry reassured her they would love her just as she was. Her figure returned, still a tad weak with muscle loss, but Henry didn’t mind, her face didn’t hide she was happy to see him either. Handing over his son, openly at the airport, walking out almost hand in hand, ignoring flashes and inquiries, Carey knew this would just be the beginning. Security was thick, cars were darkened, but once behind all those layers, it was quiet and just them. His house beautiful, modern in row of converted homes older than America itself, she felt at ease, watching Henry with James. Henry looked tired beyond words, and soon she found him sleeping on the sofa, with James snuggled tight, Kal watching over. In this moment, she wanted nothing but them, together, unbroken by her pride, letting tears slip, her heart filling with ideas words could not do justice. She took the moment to call her mother, update her that they were exactly where they needed to be, her mother hearing a happiness she hadn’t expressed in while, hanging up , but letting go, knowing Carey and James belonged there, without a heavy heart. 

The quiet afternoon, feeling like the beginning of a little family just starting out, with bumps and turns along the way, learning more about each other, with their entire lifetime ahead of them to figure that out. James being the starting point, others would follow, that dream of Henry’s found to be true, perfect without perfection, as it should be.


End file.
